by Justin Karcher
Buzzfeed tells me
that the world is ending
just as it’s always been
and they’re probably right
the night sky where I grew up
always felt like a run-on sentence
too many dashed dreams
competing for space
they all blended together
you could never tell the narrative
just that it was a desperate one
the stars were apostrophes that didn’t really belong
but we put them in there anyway
because we wanted to believe that our brightness
could possess all this emptiness
now when I visit
my friends are always pushing cribs
into emergency rooms
or they’re trying to run away from unemployment
riding their grandparents’ bikes
through overgrown backyards
where our old high school teachers
spend their summers
sleeping in dilapidated dog houses
and dreaming of destroying Big Brother
once and for all
now when I visit
I try not to get wasted
instead I drink a million Arizona Iced Teas
and hang out in the parking lots of funeral homes
and try to crack their Wi-Fi passwords
I tell myself that if I figure it out
I’m one step closer to figuring out
the secrets of the afterlife
I’m still trying
but the ghosts aren’t talking
sometimes love happens
when I visit
and that’s nice
junkies on a first date
or what I think is a first date
arguing in front a Redbox
about what Rom-Com to watch
eventually it hits me
that hey
it’s my cousin
it’s my ex
then I run as fast as I can
in the opposite direction
while all of Arcade Fire’s Funeral
plays in my head
sometimes I just keep running
until I’m put down
then sometimes shit gets crazy
like this one time
I ran into this kid I went to high school with
vaping in front of the video liquidators
they told me all about how Kevin
who was a couple years older than us
defied all odds
and became a bighearted veterinarian
but then he was murdered
my friend was like, “Oh man
you know Kevin, right?
so in the middle of the night
a dead kitty cat is left
on the front steps of his clinic
he arrives in the morning
and his heart sinks
he was already cracking before this
relationship problems, you know?
Kevin’s not doing too good
rumor has it that his fiancé was cheating on him
that she fell in love with this dude
who looked like a scarecrow
who ate asbestos
anyway, so she left Kevin
shacked up with Mr. Straw Teeth
eventually they wandered into this cornfield
in the basement of an abandoned YMCA
and were never seen or heard from again
like I said, Kevin’s not in a good headspace
so he sees the dead kitty cat as a warning sign
an omen
he was getting weird like that
seeing angels in the ashtray
seeing demons in the dishwasher
he had a sinking feeling
that something very, very bad was gonna happen
he told anyone who’d listen
so yeah, he puts the kitty cat in a garbage bag
then into the freezer to reassess the situation
he doesn’t know what to do
but thinks he’ll bury it somewhere
honor its memory, right?
so a couple days later
he goes into the freezer
grabs the bag
but the frozen leg pokes through the bag
and the kitty cat hadn’t had its nails trimmed or cut
in fuckin’ forever
so the claws on that paw dug into Kevin’s arms
puncturing the skin
and scratching the bone
I imagine it was like a thousand meowing switchblades
shacking up in his soft tissue
Kevin’s a veterinarian, you know?
he should be used to this
but this time it’s different
he closes shop
loses his mind for a couple hours
then he goes to an urgent care
but it’s not really an urgent care
it’s someone’s house, you know?
and the people there are monsters
‘cause it’s one of those houses
Kevin’s been dealing in feline pharmaceuticals
got involved with the wrong strays
anyway, they strip him down
and lead him outside
to some shrubby train tracks
where they set him on fire
rumor has it was a ritual
a sacrifice to the merciless gods of the Rust Belt
look, when the moon’s out
we all stay indoors now
Netflix and chill
but it’s more like Netflix and hypothermia
‘cause there’s this great numbness happening
but nobody likes talking about that
anyway, Kevin’s remains are discovered
about a week or so later
a pile of ash and apostrophes
so anyway, what have you been up to?”
Justin Karcher (Twitter: @Justin_Karcher. Instagram: the.man.about.town) is a Best of the Net- and Pushcart-nominated poet and playwright born and raised in Buffalo, New York. He is the author of several books, including Tailgating at the Gates of Hell (Ghost City Press, 2015). He is also the editor of Ghost City Review and co-editor of the anthologies My Next Heart: New Buffalo Poetry (BlazeVOX [books], 2017) and MANSION (dancing girl press, 2019).